Dodge City

by Ashford Arnold

Authentic Tales of the Wild West: Part 1

I have been long drawn to the fantastic stories and tales of adventure and danger that the West has afforded my imagination since I was a boy. From the time I began my education in literature, journalism really, at Washington College in my beloved Shenandoah Valley, I dreamt of one day making my way out West to write no more and no less than what my own eyes would see. This is the commencement of that very endeavor. 

There were many destinations that I could have chosen to begin my journeys, but I knew that I had but one locus for my Western pursuit; no good, dirty, cheatin’ Dodge City. A town that was known all the way back home in Virginia for its reputation of lawlessness, debauchery and… well, I intend this column to be read by imaginative and adventurous young men, so I will leave it there. 

The trip out to Kansas was a well worn one; not so much excitement, and all the listlessness one could stand. On the first day of the third week, I heard the City before I could see or smell it. I was nodding off when a gunshot was loudly followed by five more of the same. I was instantly riding up next to the caravanner trying to find out what was happening; without so much as raising his eyes to the horizon, I could see his eyes peaking up from beneath his hat, and he simply muttered, “Fields Gang.” 

I didn’t know what that meant, but I meant to find out.

— Check back next Monday for a new entry in Ashford’s journal —